The Everyone-Hates-Me Blues
by probablynever
Summary: : Harry was already miserable during his prolonged fight with Ron in his fourth year at Hogwarts. However, when Harry overhears his supposed best friend talking about him, it completely shatters his perception of their friendship. Contains pre-slash for Harry and Ron. Chapter four kind of contains pre-femmeslash with Hermione and Cho.
1. Shouted Words

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Also, any themes that are similar to those in other fanfictions is purely coincidental.

A/N: I intend to write further chapters. I hope you enjoy :) **Update on this chapter.** I decided to put an asterisk next to the acronym "CPS" so you can go to the bottom of the page and read what it is. I'm not defining it right here because people tend to skip the "author's note" bit. I'm not complaining. I'm guilty of that too. :P

* * *

It was a bad day to be Harry Potter. Actually, it was a bad year to be Harry Potter. He shifted on his dorm room bed and sighed, contemplating just how shitty his fourth year at Hogwarts had been so far.

Harry had genuinely been looking forward to the Triwizard Tournament; just sitting back and watching other people endanger _their_ lives for a change, watching other people be scrutinized and glorified. Then, his name had been pulled from the goblet, and now he had been enlisted in yet another battle that he wanted nothing to do with.

Harry could handle that. At times, he almost enjoyed the fight, trying to hurt Voldemort the way he had hurt him and others. However, a much larger part of Harry hated all of the attention he gained from it. People always expected so much from him, and they tended to loathe him when he couldn't deliver, or when crazy things happened, like his name being pulled from the goblet.

That was where Harry was now; isolated, the entire school seemingly against him. Harry would probably be capable of handling that as well; however, the cruel new element to this situation was that his best friend, Ron, had turned against him too. In Ron's absence, Harry felt empty, and he began to wonder why he was bothering with anything. Everything seemed so meaningless to him without Ron. Why was he putting himself through all this hell?

To top it all off, Harry had been fortunate enough to receive his first letter from his aunt and uncle. It was a lovely message that addressed Harry as a "little shit", blamed Harry for CPS* (and wizarding CPS, apparently) questioning them and "ruining his uncle's reputation", and it ended sweetly by threatening Harry with death. Harry had read the note, balled it up and tossed it into the wastebasket, not even bothering to abolish it magically.

Honestly, to Harry, there was nothing particularly remarkable or hurtful about the content of the letter. It served as a painful reminder that no one loved him, but he was used to his Aunt and Uncle telling him that he was worthless. He had heard it all before. Harry had also previously dealt with his relatives' "CPS panic attacks". They had never amounted to anything, except for more abuse.

The letter wasn't completely without merit, though. He _had_ found it somewhat humorous to read their shouted words, rather than hear them in person. Though he supposed he should feel fearful of the upcoming summer, he couldn't help but laugh at how rabidly angry they sounded. He found it particularly funny how they tacked on that he was a "stupid bastard" at the end of one of their sentences. Classic.

Sadly, a tiny part of Harry also found the abusive letter comforting. At least he could always rely on his Aunt and Uncle to be absolutely horrible. That was... something.

"Ooh," Harry heard Seamus mock from behind him. "If it isn't Mr. I-have-to-be-in-the-Triwizard-Tournament. What are you moping around about? Did they forget to interview you today? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your photo op?"

Harry stood up, avoiding eye contact. "Leave me alone, Seamus," he replied weakly.

"Aw, what's the matter? Can't take a little joke, or are you too good for that?"

 _Fuck it, I'll do my homework in the library or something_ , he thought. Harry ignored him, grabbed his schoolbag, and left the room, wondering how Seamus didn't get sorted into Slytherin.

"Ugh, just let me vent to you, Neville. You should've seen him this morning with that lady reporter. 'Oh, well, to be honest, I never really wanted to compete in the Tournament'," Ron said, obviously imitating Harry. "I'm sorry, but I seriously can't believe just how much of a git he is. I'm telling you, I can't stand him."

Exasperated, Neville rolled his eyes in response. "Ron, haven't we talked about this enough? I've already told you. I think he looks miserable around reporters, and I still don't think he put his own name in the goblet."

Harry, who had been halfway down the stairs, paused, unsure of what to do. They were clearly talking about him. No part of Harry wanted to hear what Ron had to say about him, but he couldn't move. It would be awkward to walk past them, but more than that, Harry felt as though his legs were literally glued in place. Ever since he was a child, whenever someone said or did something to him that felt particularly hurtful, some part of him closed off, leaving him momentarily more mesmerized than hurt. He couldn't stop listening.

Ron snorted derisively. "Oh please, he's loving this. He's so arrogant, he's probably been planning this since first year. All he ever thinks about is himself." _That's not too bad_ , Harry thought. By now, he was accustomed to Ron thinking he was conceited.

"Sorry, Ron," Neville said timidly, "but I think Harry probably thinks about himself less than anyone I know. He kind of, I dunno, seems like he hates himself most of the time."

"Oh good!" Ron shouted. "Then we have something in common. I hate him too. Hell, I never really liked him. I never had any fun with him. I just.. I felt sorry for him. That's all. He was a total pain to be around."

Suddenly, Neville peered up at the staircase. Harry blushed, still feeling unable to move, but certain Neville had spotted him.

"Um, Ron..." Neville said.

Ron ignored him, continuing his rant. "And another thing! I've been wanting to stop hanging out with him for a long time now. I'm glad we're fighting. Gives me a good excuse to stop talking to him. He could die in that bloody tournament for all I care."

"Ron, you're really going to regret saying that, especially if something does happen to Harry in the tournament."

"No, I won't! It'd be a load off my mind."

Finally, Harry felt he had heard enough. Unaware of the tears falling down his face, he walked briskly past the two boys, careful not to run. Still half in his numbed state and oblivious to his own tears, Harry figured he should walk rather than run, that he should make it look like he wasn't hurt or hadn't even heard the conversation.

Ron and him briefly met each other's eyes, but Harry looked away and hurried out of the room before he could read his expression. Behind him, he could hear Ron call after him, "Shit. Harry, wait! I didn't mean what I said!" However, it was too late. In a cloud, all Harry could continue to do was walk pointedly out of the common room, hoping to find a secluded place to do his homework, and probably cry.

* * *

*CPS stands for Child Protective services. Basically, if someone under eighteen is being abused, someone will contact CPS and they'll intervene and, if need be, remove the child from their guardians' care. I think this is pretty much the job of social workers, but I'm no expert. Regardless, it's a very necessary and important job.


	2. Ron's Lament

A/N: Hey, I just thought I'd clear a few things up. First, this story is really only loosely based around fourth year canon. It's been awhile since I've read the actual books and everything so I might forget about some minor details or exact sequences of events. Also, in this story, I focused the hurt/comfort more on Harry's character, because he's the one I personally feel most sorry for in _Goblet of Fire_. Nonetheless, Harry _is_ capable of hurting Ron as well, and this _is_ a good thing to be reminded about since it helps me try to flesh out characters more. Don't get me wrong, it's actually really good, completely valid criticism. :) I really do have a tendency to get wrapped up in one character's thoughts and overlook how things affect others. For this chapter, I decided to try to talk more about how Ron feels. I think I might have gone a bit overboard.

Anyway, I hope that helps clear things up, and thanks a lot to anyone reading. I really appreciate it. :)

* * *

Ron watched in distress as Harry darted out of sight. He honestly hadn't meant any of the things he said. He had just been trying to get some anger off of his chest, and he certainly never would have said those things had he known Harry was watching. "Fuck," Ron muttered. "Damnit, Neville!"

"What?" Neville cringed.

"Why didn't you tell me he was standing there watching?!"

"I tried to, but you wouldn't listen!" Neville insisted. He paused. In spite of his shyness and sweet demeanor, he felt compelled to give Ron a metaphorical kick to the groin. "Besides, what do you care? You don't even give a shit if he dies in the tournament. Good luck dealing with that if Harry _does_ die." Neville turned on his heel and left the room.

Ron watched Neville leave, distracted. _Fuck_ , Ron thought. He grimaced. All he could think about was the heart-broken look on Harry's face, the tears running down his cheeks. Ron could feel his own heart twisting painfully. _Oh, mate. I didn't mean any of what I said. Please don't be so hurt_. _I don't deserve you anyway._ Ron considered sucking up his pride, running after Harry, and begging for forgiveness. He wanted nothing more than to hug Harry and tell him that he'd been full of shit, that he cared about him more than anything.

Ron sighed. He couldn't think about that. He had to focus on things about Harry that pissed him off.

Sometimes, it _was_ hard being Harry's friend. Everyone was always so obsessed with Harry, and they tended to view Ron as the sidekick. Even though Ron was always fighting Voldemort alongside Harry, people still often forgot he existed next to his friend, the boy-who-lived, the "savior". Throughout the battles he and his friends had endured, Ron had proven his own Gryffindor bravery, been injured, and sacrificed his own safety and livelihood more than a few times to protect his friends, but no one cared. None of that mattered because he didn't have a stupid scar on his forehead. Ron knew it was horribly unfair to think that way. To Harry, that scar represented the death of his parents. To Ron and the rest of the wizarding world, it represented being some sort of bad-ass "chosen one". It was complicated.

Another thing Ron disliked about Harry was his tendency to be secretive, and to keep things from Ron. Harry was quiet and didn't always keep his friends informed about things that were happening. Sometimes, he lied about things, either to keep his friends from worrying or for some other reason. Harry's quiet nature could also be mistaken for rudeness or arrogance. Ron knew that Harry was somewhat shy, so of course sometimes Harry could be short with people, not out of any real disrespect, but rather because he was over-analytical of himself or nervous. As for arrogance, Harry was hardly Gilderoy Lockhart, but that was the thing. Ron hardly ever knew what Harry was thinking or feeling. For all Ron knew, Harry could fancy himself the strongest leader since Godric Gryffindor.

To be fair, his seemingly aloof manner was also one thing that made Ron attracted to Harry. Harry was a mysterious, confusing person, who rarely spoke about what was on his mind, which always left Ron guessing. It could be both intriguing and infuriating. Regardless, It sometimes left him feeling out of the loop, and it made him question whether Harry really enjoyed his company at all. At times, Harry was so consumed with his own issues that he forgot that Ron had feelings too. Again, to be fair, Harry did have major issues.

All Ron knew was that, though he honestly loved Harry and missed being around him terribly, he sometimes got tired of putting in so much effort only for it to go completely unnoticed. Even next to Hermione, Ron felt insignificant, since she was practically a genius. His siblings were all intelligent, charismatic, or strong. Ron was just the youngest Weasley boy, barely registering attention when held to the standards set by his brothers and sister, and he was certainly no one special in comparison to Harry Potter. Deep in his heart, Ron knew it wasn't Harry's fault, but he couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy sometimes when Harry received so much recognition, and Ron received so little. This jealousy, spurred by something that really wasn't Harry's fault, often led to feeling guilty, only compounding Ron's misery. He supposed it was not unlike one sibling envying another due to the attention they received for having a terminal illness. You know you shouldn't feel jealous, but you can't help it when it seems like everyone is fawning over the other person. Although, in Harry's case, there were just as many naysayers who hated him. Either way, the attention always remained on him.

Ron supposed that that had been one of the reasons he had lashed out at Harry. It wasn't necessarily because he was angry that Harry got all the glory. Subconciously, it was a way to distance himself from him so he wouldn't be in Harry's shadow. It also had the added benefit of bringing attention to himself. The entire school knew that he and Harry were feuding. A couple of older Slytherin boys had patted him on the back recently in passing, saying, "Good on you, Weasley. I would've kicked Potter to the curb _ages_ ago." He had actually laughed in response, enjoying the praise. Ron cringed at the memory.

He felt lonely, and he knew Harry probably did too, though it was still difficult to tell. Harry was brilliant at feigning apathy. Ron _had_ noticed that Harry was even quieter than usual. Aside from busying himself with school work and tournament-related activities, all Harry seemed to do was sulk and stare pensively at things. Ron felt that he was completely in the right (or at least half in the right. A quarter in the right.) and he steadfastly refused to apologize, but it was all Ron could do at times not to rush up to Harry and do just that, apologize. Yet, everything was such a conundrum. In spite of Harry's visible moping, Ron still found himself wondering if Harry really cared and if he really needed Ron. Ron's pride was the main reason he wouldn't say he was sorry, but Harry's seemingly mild reaction to it all left him cold, wondering why he should bother when Harry didn't even have the decency to yell back at him a little, or seem truly sad. Regardless, it was taking more and more inspiration to remain angry at Harry.

For some reason, Ron couldn't stand the idea of simply ignoring Harry altogether. He had to be volatile, spiteful, brash. Ron could not apologize, but he couldn't let Harry fade out of his life either. For his part, Harry just kept his head down and ignored him. Hermione insisted that Harry was miserable and that Ron and him needed to make up, but Ron just didn't know what to believe. When Ron insulted him, Ron didn't see real pain. He saw someone get their ego shot down, then quickly recover. Yet, Ron still couldn't let it go. He _had_ to get a reaction out of him. Ron didn't want to admit it, but in spite of him lashing out at Harry due to the attention he received from everyone, Harry had somehow still unintentionally succeeded in gaining Ron's own undivided concentration. And all Harry had to do was ignore him. It was such a paradox.

Well, Ron had gotten a reaction out of him, and it made him feel awful. However, a part of him had been happy. After all, it had proven to him that Harry did care about Ron's friendship. Ron had called Harry arrogant several times by now to his face, and Harry had always reacted with little more than an eye roll. This had gotten to Harry, though. It had made him cry even. Ron thus knew how to get Harry's attention: tell him that he hated him and had never wanted to be friends. Ron sighed. What an asshole he had been.

His anger was waning, being replaced by an emptiness that he knew he'd been ignoring. He was beginning to realize the real problem in his relationship with Harry; a lack of communication. Ron needed to remind Harry that sometimes he felt neglected and left out if he wanted Harry to understand how he was feeling, and Harry needed to learn both how to open up to Ron, and to appreciate Ron's help. Rejecting Harry and hurting him wasn't doing either of them any good. Now, Ron would be lucky if Harry ever talked to him again, much less told him about his innermost thoughts.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Being mad at Harry for supposedly putting his own name in the Goblet of Fire was much easier to explain to himself and others than his real reasons for rejecting Harry.

Ron realized that he had been staring at the wall for the past five or so minutes. Sighing, he finally got to his feet and walked to the dorm room. He sat on his bed and flipped through one of his textbooks before relenting and doing what he really wanted to do. He glanced around the room to make sure he was alone, then he grabbed his photographs of Harry. Ron smiled, going through the handful of pictures; ones of Harry flying, Harry smiling, Harry and him goofing off. "Aw, mate," Ron whispered, surprised by the sad, desperate tone in his own voice. "What the hell am I doing?"

He set the pictures down and rubbed his forehead, suddenly tired. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at the wastebasket. There was a partially-obscured, crumpled-up note on lined muggle paper sticking up near the top, amidst the discarded junk food and messed up parchment. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about it, Ron felt compelled to retrieve it from the trash can. He knew the note was none of his business, but he figured it would at least entertain him and get his mind off of Harry.

He could not have been more wrong.

" _You little shit!"_ The letter began. _Damn_ , Ron thought, giggling. _Someone was mad at someone_. _If this letter wasn't written by a muggle, it would've been a howler._

" _Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? This is the last straw. When you get home this summer, you'll be going back in the cupboard! I've had to deal with CPS, and now your freaky magic CPS! Some stupid lady called them before you left, and we haven't heard the end of it since! You're ruining our lives and your Uncle's reputation!"_

 _Merlin,_ Ron thought, no longer laughing. " _Going back in the cupboard"? That's fucked up._ Ron had to search his mind for a moment to remember that CPS stood for Child Protective Services. He wasn't surprised that they were going after these apparently horrid people who locked people in cupboards. Ron bit his lip. There was something especially disturbing about this note to him. Something about the tone of the letter seemed... familiar.

" _You know damn well you deserve everything you receive at home, but we've told you a million times never to tell anyone about it. And also like we've told you a MILLION TIMES, don't think CPS talking to us means you deserve to be taken away from us and that you're in the right, you stupid bastard. They don't know that the reason we have to punish you so severely is because you're a worthless freak and a pathetic excuse for a human and you're making all of our lives worse by being in it! And the reason we make you work so hard is because it's the only way you can make it up to us!_

 _"One more thing, boy. If this ever happens again, you won't be going in the cupboard, you'll be going in the grave. If you EVER pull this shit again, we will kill you._

 _Vernon and Petunia Dursley"_

"Oh fuck," Ron said hoarsely. The letter was from Harry's aunt and uncle. Ron felt shocked and unsettled. He hadn't realized that Harry's relatives were _that_ bad. They _would_ be brazen enough to sign their names to something like that. A new layer of horror to the note crossed Ron's mind. "Oh shit. What if I, like, validated what they said to him?"

Ron felt like crying. He couldn't believe he'd been such an asshole anyway, let alone on top of all of the suffering he knew Harry had to endure both at school and at home. Ron repeated what Harry had done before him. He balled the note up. Then, after a moment's consideration, he set it on fire.


	3. Harry's Lament

A/N: This chapter's a bit different since it's from the perspective of Harry, as well as Fred and George.

Thanks so much for reading my story, and for leaving any kind of feedback. None of it is required, but I sincerely appreciate it nonetheless. :) Thanks so much again!

* * *

Harry stumbled through the dense forest, scraping himself along the way, not caring what kind of mythical hellspawn he might happen across. Though he had originally intended to head to the library, on his way there, it occurred to him that the library would be filled with other students, especially since it was Saturday. Harry had no desire to be around other people at the moment. Even in other quiet spots in the castle, Harry was sure there would be passersby who would look at him like he was an idiot for studying in that location. Thus, Harry had ended up trekking through the Forbidden Forest, dodging hanging plants and fallen trees. Now he felt like an idiot for studying in the Forbidden Forest, but at least no one could see him.

Finally, he came upon a clearing. A beautiful, secluded pond brimmed out before him, stagnant and cold. A phoenix sang from a nearby tree. Harry placed his bag on the ground and sat next to it. His tears had long since evaporated, but he still felt miserable.

Harry was perfectly capable of dealing with arguing with Ron and he could cope fine with Ron being angry at him. By now, he was used to Ron bitterly declaring how conceited he was. _Whatever_ , Harry had thought. _He'll get over it_.

Now, Harry felt like he had no stability. He felt unsure of everything he had ever experienced with Ron. _I had fun with him_ , he thought solemnly. The concept that Ron had never enjoyed being with Harry, that he had only felt sorry for him, that Ron had wanted to end his friendship with him for years, weighed on Harry like nothing he had ever felt before. Ron was probably the most important person in Harry's life and the idea that he had never really wanted Harry around tore at his heart. Ron had meant _everthing_ to him.

Part of Harry knew Ron had been speaking out of anger, but at the moment, Harry couldn't think rationally. "You don't just say that shit out of the blue," he whispered bitterly to himself.

Harry had been so sure that Ron was missing him as much as he missed Ron. He had been sure that Ron would eventually forgive him and that they could resume being friends. Instead, Ron was _relieved_ to be rid of him.

Ron was the only person Harry had almost truly trusted. He loved Hermione, but she could be so clinical and serious. Though she was a terrific friend, she had a tendency to look at things purely from a logical standpoint, forgetting about the more emotional aspects of life. His Godfather, Sirius, was always sweet to him, as was Remus Lupin, but Harry knew he couldn't actually rely on them. They both had hectic lives and their own problems. They didn't need Harry cluttering things up with his problems too. Ron was the only one with which Harry had even remotely felt like he could be himself. Ron always cheered him up, made him laugh, and generally made him enjoy life. Harry didn't feel like there was anyone who could ever provide something even close to what Ron gave him.

Though he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, recently, Harry had begun to think that he should swallow his pride and apologize. It hadn't really occurred to him at first because he knew that he hadn't done what Ron was accusing him of. He didn't want to lie and confess to something that he didn't do, but he still thought about saying he was sorry for _something_. He had just been so taken aback and hurt at first by Ron's sudden resentment. Maybe there was something else Ron was angry with him about, he had thought. The concept that Ron was jealous of him wasn't lost on him. Perhaps, Harry had been too cocky. When Ron become angry with him, perhaps he was too immediately defensive. He should've listened to Ron and tried to explain his side of things. Instead, Harry had snapped back at him. Then he proceeded to put up his walls and pretend that he didn't care.

Now, none of that mattered. Harry didn't need to apologize. There was no way to make amends, and no reason to attempt to. Ron hated Harry and apparently, had always hated being around him. It made sense. Harry was quiet and boring and no fun to be with. Ron deserved to be with exciting, happy people, who weren't constantly dragging him down into a spiral of dispair, let alone forcing him to risk his life for them. Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. He wiped them away angrily.

 _Well, fuck him. Who needs him anyway?_ , Harry thought. _Guess I'd better try and get some homework done_. He reached into his bookbag. His hands grazed against what felt like a thick, wide stack of papers in the front compartment of his bag. Confused, he unzipped the compartment and pulled the papers out. There, in his hands, were photographs. He'd forgotten that he'd stuffed his pictures in his school bag for safe keeping. Some of them were of Hermione, Fred and George, and others, but most of them were of Ron. Harry cautiously examined the pictures. At first glance, Ron _looked_ happy. Still, Harry found himself examining his eyes, the corners of his mouth, and his body language. It was clear to Harry now that Ron hated being with him. All Harry could see in Ron's eyes were loathing and disgust.

Once, these pictures would have brought comfort to him. Looking at Ron's smile had been like looking at pure, undiluted sunshine (except that it didn't hurt your eyes). Now when he looked at these pictures, all he could do was scrutinize every one of Ron's smiles, wondering if Ron had ever wanted to be there with him at all.

Harry tried, but he couldn't prevent himself from bursting into tears. He buried his face in his arms and sobbed softly to himself, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life.

* * *

Fred and George waltzed through the forest cheerfully, taking one of their usual shortcuts back from Hogsmeade. The twins laughed heartily at each other's jokes, gloating to one another about the prank they had just pulled.

"Oh man," George wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Did you see the look on Katie's face when her hair turned green? It was hilarious."

"I know!" Fred guffawed. "That wasn't even one of our more clever or embarrassing pranks, but she-" He gasped in between laughs, trying to catch his breath. "She just looked so freaking surprised and embarrassed!" Fred and George happily cackled at the misfortune of their fellow Quidditch teammate.

"Well, at first," George clarified, laughing even harder. "Then she looked like she was gonna kick our asses."

"Meh," Fred waved his hand in apathy. "She'll get over it."

"Yeah, she's known us for this long. Like, come on, girl. You know what to expect from us by now. Anyway, it's a good look for her, " George said. The two chuckled in mutual appreciation of their admittedly stupid prank.

" _I_ honestly thought she looked cute," Fred admitted.

They were coming upon the pond they usually passed on their shortcut when Fred suddenly acquired a serious, concerned look. He stopped walking. "Hold up. Isn't that, Harry?"

George followed Fred's gaze. At only a small distance away, Harry sat huddled by the pond. "Oh yeah... Aw. Poor kid. He has to put up with so much shit," George said, somewhat angrily.

"Bet it was something our stupid brother said."

"I would not be surprised at all," George answered, rolling his eyes. "Why does Harry even like that git?"

"Merlin know why he thinks Harry put his own name in the Goblet. Come on, let's go talk to him."

The twins approached Harry somewhat stealthily. "Hey, Harry," they said softly in unison.

Harry jumped visably, hurriedly stuffing his pictures back into his schoolbag. He quickly wiped at his eyes and put on his best I'm-totally-okay-and-I-wasn't-crying-at-all voice. "Oh hey, Fred and George! What are you guys up to?"

The twins exchanged glances. It was obvious that Harry was trying to pretend he was okay. They sat next to the him on the ground, putting their arms around his shoulders casually. George gave Harry a soft smile. "You know, you really shouldn't be out here, Harry. These woods can be really dangerous. It is the _Forbidden_ Forest, after all."

"Hey, _you_ guys are out here," Harry retorted playfully, smirking. The twins smiled. They loved it when Harry was sassy.

"Yeah, but we're just passing through! Besides, shit doesn't already try to kill us on a regular basis, unlike you. The last thing you need is to be in a forest full of monsters," Fred replied, mussing Harry's hair. Harry laughed lightly. "When you're done doing your homework or whatever, you go inside, all right? Is that _clear_ , young man?"

"All right," Harry said in resignation.

"Hey, Harry?" Fred said softly, becoming serious suddenly. "You know you can always talk to me and George about anything, right?"

Harry stiffened and nodded, unsure of what to say.

"We wouldn't care if you did, but we _know_ you didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire," George said, rubbing Harry's back. "We can tell you hate all of this attention."

"I really do," Harry sighed, relaxing a bit. There was something so nurturing and maturnal about the way Fred and George treated him sometimes. It reminded him of Sirius. Harry knew better than to relax entirely, but he couldn't help but go a bit limp when they were like that with him. "I just wanted to _watch_ the Triwizard Tournament, you know?" He laughed softly. "But, what're you gonna do?"

Fred and George laughed sympathetically. "Yeah, no kidding. I can only imagine how tired you are of this shit," George said.

"You have to do so much, and everybody always expects so much from you," Fred added, stroking Harry's hair.

Harry could feel himself melting in their embrace. He could not allow himself to get too comfortable or too used to this, or he would end up crying like a bitch. Grabbing his bag, he stood and faced them, planting a friendly smile on his face. "Well, thanks so much for talking to me, you guys. I feel much bet-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you're going? You come back here, kid," Fred demanded playfully, keeping his voice light so he wouldn't scare Harry off.

"We're not done talking to you just yet, Harry," George added. "Come back over here."

A bit nervous, Harry walked back to the twins and sat down.

"Look, Harry," Fred said seriously, looking him in the eye. "Did Ron say something to you?"

Harry immediately looked away. He looked back, trying to maintain eye contact. "No. Of course not." Harry cringed slightly at how insincere his words sounded.

George smiled softly. "Come on, kid. We know he's been acting like a total git. You can tell us."

"No, don't worry about it. He didn't say anything, honestly. I'm just depressed because of the Tournament," Harry stated more firmly, trying to sound less like he was lying. As sweet as the twins were being to him, the last thing Harry needed was Ron becoming even angrier at him for "tattling" on him.

They sighed, still clearly unconvinced. "Well, just listen to us, okay, kid?" Fred said soothingly, stroking Harry's hair again. "Ron is a complete shithead, but he loves you to death. We _know_ he misses you."

"All summer long, all he does is talk about you. He barely even mentions Hermione. He just won't shut up about you," George said, laughing softly and stroking Harry's back. "It's always, 'oh what do you think Harry's doing?' or 'that's dumb. Harry would never be interested in that' or 'you suck. I wish Harry was here. He's a much better Quidditch player than you.' Trust me, it gets really old, and somewhat hurtful. But the point is he's crazy about you, kid."

Harry could feel tears pooling in his eyes. He _had_ to get out of there. He stood once more, grabbing his bag. "Thanks so much, Fred and George," Harry said, sincerely. Although he was close to tears, he didn't want to be rude. They had been so nice, and they did make him feel better. Still, not crying in front of them took precedence. "I- I feel a lot better now. I'm just gonna go, I dunno, return something to Professor McGonagall or something," Harry said, quickly making up an obviously bullshit reason for his departure. Before the twins could respond, Harry scampered off.

They watched Harry hurry away from them with sympathetic looks on their faces.

"Well," George said. "Guess we ought to pay our little brother a visit."

"You got that right," Fred angrily replied, standing up. "Come on, I think 'Ronniekins' could use a little talking-to."


	4. We'll Always Have Arithmancy Class

A/N: This chapter contains sort of a subplot regarding a very one-sided crush Hermione has on Cho Chang. It's pretty femme-slashy. The conversation that Hermione has with Harry towards the end of the chapter takes place a couple of hours before he hears Ron talking about him, just to clear that up.

Also, since Cho's parentage is never fully mentioned in the books, I sort of implied that she's a half-born witch. Thanks for reading! :)

* * *

Ron glanced at the window. It was growing dark and a light rain had started. Other students were returning to the common room. He was beginning to worry. Harry still wasn't back yet.

He glanced around the quickly filling common room with disdain. The last thing he wanted was to deal with anyone. Neville caught his gaze and glared at him slightly. Ron didn't care. He was too consumed with worry for Harry and with his desire to be alone.

"Hi, Ron," Hermione's voice rang out from behind him. _Oh great_ , Ron thought. _The last thing I need is Hermione bitching at me too. I feel bad enough._

Ron turned to face her and gave her a weak smile. "Hey, Hermione."

"I picked up that book you wanted from the library," she said, handing him a heavy old compendium. Ron couldn't even remember why he wanted it. "Hey, I know you're being a prat to him right now, but have you seen Harry? It's getting late and I'm a bit worried about him."

Ron stood and angrily shoved the book back into Hermione's hands. "Will you just leave me alone? Why can't anyone just shut up and leave me alone?" He shouted.

Hermione gave him a surprised look, holding her hands up as a sign of submission. "Okay. Geez, don't get your knickers in such a twist."

The common room had gone quiet and everyone was staring at Ron. Ron felt himself grow crimson. Then he growled and dramatically exited the room.

Everyone watched him leave. Then they shrugged and returned to their business. Hermione cocked an eyebrow, then sighed. She felt so out of the loop sometimes. Though she loved both of her friends dearly and she knew they loved her, there was something so... intense about Ron and Harry's relationship, something magnetic. Hermione was beginning to suspect that her two friends were attracted to each other. Though she wanted to feel jealous, she didn't. Hermione had never loved either Ron or Harry as more than friends. She thought that they were both good-looking, but she'd never been able to muster up any kind of real attraction to them, other than noticing that they were handsome. That was as far as it went with them. It had been hard to accept at first, but she'd come to terms with it. She knew now that she was a lesbian.

Since Hermione was much more interested in girls than in guys, she did feel somewhat attracted to Ginny, but she thought of her more as a little sister. Besides, Ginny was so wild and reckless that Hermione felt like she couldn't always keep up with her. Hermione was quite courageous, but Ginny was a hardcore Gryffindor, brave and energetic. Still, Hermione admired her for her boldness, and she never wanted to ruin the friendship that she already had with her.

Hermione _had_ had another, larger crush on a different girl, though. The black-haired girl had seemed so beautiful, so untouchable. Like Harry, she seemed to have everything going for her, but she had a strange air of sadness and vulnerability about her too, also like Harry. The only big difference, aside from gender, was that she was a bit of a snob. Harry was quiet and he kept to himself. The girl that Hermione had fancied was conceited and seemed to believe that she was superior to other students. Hermione had known that she would never even notice her, let alone be interested in her, but she still hadn't been able to stop herself from being utterly attracted to Cho Chang. Cho was so gorgeous, and she seemed so much cooler and more mature than her, since Cho was a year above her.

Still, Hermione could only admire her from afar. She had only actually interacted with Cho a couple of times, and only one of those interactions had been pleasant.

The first time, Hermione had accidentally walked into Cho while she was with her girlfriends from Ravenclaw. They didn't say anything. They just giggled at her while Hermione mumbled a quick, "sorry."

As she walked away, she heard one of the girls say, "She's even weirder than _Luna_." Hermione didn't know who that was, and she could tell from the voice that it hadn't been Cho that said it, but her feelings were still hurt. She always found it odd that the Ravenclaws, who one would expect to be geeky social misfits, were often quite stuck up. A lot of them seemed to think that they were better than everyone else.

Hermione's crush on Cho would have completely died after that if it hadn't been for one day after arithmancy class. Cho had been held back a year in arithmancy, so Hermione was able to take the same class as her, which Hermione, of course, had been thrilled about.

It had happened last Monday. Cho sat at her desk, looking off into the distance, obviously trying not to cry. The classroom was empty except for her, Cho, and Professor Vector. Hermione had been waiting for her essay to be returned, as she expected Cho was. Professor Vector beamed at Hermione proudly when she handed her back the graded essay. Hermione smiled back at her. She had aced it, as usual. "Thanks a lot, Professor Vector."

"You earned it! Beautiful work as always, Miss Granger. If you're going to be long, would you girls mind locking up in here? You know the spell, don't you?"

"You bet! I was just leaving, but I'll wait for Cho." Cho remained silent, staring at her desk. Professor Vector looked worriedly at her, then she smiled in appreciation at Hermione and left.

Hermione cautiously approached Cho. She looked so pretty, but so sad. Like a porcelain doll. "Hey... are you all right?"

Cho looked up, seeming surprised. She must have been lost in thought. She quickly relaxed and blotted at her eyes with a pink handkerchief, mascara staining the fabric. She seemed relieved at the sight of Hermione. Hermione knew that it was because she felt superior to her, but she still felt glad that Cho seemed relaxed by her appearance. "I got a 'T' on my arithmancy essay. My parents expect so much from me, and I got a T!" Cho paused, wiping away tears, mascara smearing across her cheeks. "What kind of Ravenclaw am I? I hate arithmancy! It's my worst subject. I'm never going to get past this stupid class.."

Hermione had received an O+ on her own essay. Arithmancy was her _favorite_ subject. She decided not to bring that up, though. "Hey... it's okay. Arithmancy _can_ be pretty confusing... "

"Oh, please." Cho rolled her eyes. She pulled a compact out of her pocket. She opened it and frowned. Then, she licked the tip of her index finger, using it to wipe the mascara off of her face. Hermione momentarily thought about teaching her a waterproofing spell, then realized that Cho probably felt like that was too much of a waste of time even for _her_. Cho continued talking."Everybody knows that you're the best in the class. Imagine, everyone in Ravenclaw consistently being outdone by a Gryffindor!" Cho smiled slightly, indicating that she didn't mean any harm. Hermione felt herself melt. "I already feel like such an idiot; failing arithmancy last year, having to take it with a bunch of fourth years. Humiliating."

Hermione felt sympathetic. "Hey, don't worry about it. Arithmancy is my favorite subject, but I know a lot of people have a tough time with it. You'll get the hang of it eventually. Besides, arithmancy's an elective, you know. You really don't _have_ to take it if you don't want to. It's mostly just nerds like me who like it." Hermione smiled.

"Trust me, I'd drop it in a heartbeat if I could," Cho said, closing her compact. She'd managed to get the mascara off of her face. She looked flawless again, as usual."It's just that my parents are really adamant about me taking as many courses as possible, and they say that arithmancy looks really good when you're signing up for universities. I hate it, but they expect so much from me, and I want to make them proud. They grounded me for weeks after I failed arithmancy last year... Anyway, I like most of my other classes, I just really hate arithmancy, especially since I'm such a perfectionist. I like to be the best at everything, you know? I'll never even get a passing grade, let alone be able to compete with _you_ in this class. Speaking of which, why aren't _you_ in Ravenclaw? You're smarter than most of _us_!"

Hermione blushed, flattered. "You'll pass. You just need to come up with some good tricks to help you remember things. Also, thanks, but I'm really not _that_ smart. No offense, but a lot of Ravenclaws just seem to be lazy and think they can make it on brain power alone. Being intelligent doesn't mean that you love to study. It takes work. Besides, I _love_ school. Studying is like a hobby for me."

Cho examined her, smiling. "I guess I never thought of it that way, but it's true. We think we're too smart to bother studying. I know many of us weren't sorted into Ravenclaw because of our work ethic, that's for sure. Still, arithmancy just goes completely over my head. Oh, well. At least I'm still taking all of my other classes with the rest of my year. I would've died of embarrassment otherwise." Cho paused, looking wistful. "Ah, so much stress. I love Hogwarts, but sometimes I do miss regular, old maths class." She sighed.

Hermione grinned. "Oh, me too! I used to love maths. It was my favorite subject back in muggle school."

Cho laughed. "I'm not surprised. Arithmancy has a lot of maths qualities. I just find it so much more confusing, though. Anyway, some of us _do_ study, don't get me wrong. I know a lot of Ravenclaws who study, but a lot of other Ravenclaws make fun of them, you know? They call them 'Ravengeeks'. Not very clever, I know." Cho paused. She looked remorseful. "Luna gets the worst of it. She's a couple of years younger than me, but _everyone_ picks on her. I always feel so bad for her, but she never seems to care. She's quite the character. No offense, but the two of you would probably get on quite nicely."

"Hey, she's the one you and your friends compared me to!" Hermione blurted out. She didn't feel offended by the comparison anymore. She thought Luna sounded like a very interesting person.

Cho's eyes widened. She looked like she felt even guiltier. "Oh my God, you heard that? I'm so sorry. _I_ didn't say that! It was one of my friends. I felt really bad. I've always thought you seemed really nice and cool. I was totally pissed at Rebecca for saying that."

Hermione blushed and smiled again. "Thanks, Cho. That's really nice of you. Anyway, it's okay. I've been told I can be a little weird before. My friends think I'm crazy, since I'm so passionate about schoolwork."

Cho laughed, relieved. "Well, I'm still sorry. Anyway, even if you do study, you're still smarter than a lot of us Ravenclaws, Granger. You do well in every class, and you seem like you really understand people too... I really like talking to you. You're, like, different from a lot of my friends, you know? In a good way. Speaking of which, um, Hermione? Can I ask you something?"

Hermione paused, waiting, hoping. Could it be? "Yes?" She asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"Do you think you could maybe tutor me on arithmancy? You know, give me some quizzes, teach me some tips on remembering, help me understand it?"

"Oh," Hermione said. It wasn't what she'd been hoping for, but it was still good. "I mean, sure! Sounds great. When and where do you want to meet up?"

"How about the library next Friday, at about 4:00 pm?"

"Sure," Hermione said, trying to be casual.

"Thanks so much, Hermione!" Cho said, giving her another breath-taking smile. "Not just for tutoring me, but also, for, you know, talking to me and stuff. My friends would have called me a 'Ravengeek' for sure." She giggled.

Hermione laughed too. "Don't worry about it. And don't let them make you feel bad for studying! Ravenclaws are all smart, but they still only get on you guys for doing well in school out of jealousy. Besides, you can study, and still be cool and pretty and stuff. I know _I_ wouldn't know anything about that, but-"

Cho laughed. "Oh, shut up, Granger. You're _gorgeous_! You don't go out of your way to be feminine or cool, but you're still super pretty. Trust me. I know some of my dorm mates are a bit jealous of you, especially Rebecca! If you just did something with your hair, you'd be a knockout." Cho paused, giggling. "Hey, maybe _I_ could tutor _you_ on makeup tips! I could give you a makeover! You ever see those stupid muggle romantic comedies, where the pretty, but geeky girl gets a makeover and all she has to do is take off her stupid glasses? That'll be you!"

Hermione blushed, laughing, feeling her heart soar. Cho was apparently one of those girls who got really excited about makeovers. Still, she felt like squealing girlishly in glee. Cho thought she was pretty! She didn't know how she felt about receiving a "makeover", but who cared? Cho Chang thought she was pretty! "Wow, thanks a lot, Cho. That means a lot coming from you," Hermione gushed, blushing even more.

"Well thank _you_ so much for talking to me and tutoring me. It's the least I can do to repay you. Next Friday, okay?"

"Okay!" Hermione chirped.

"Great!" Cho stood up and hugged Hermione enthusiastically. Hermione melted for the hundredth time. If she had been a boy, she would have gotten an erection. _Thank God I'm a girl_ , Hermione thought, blissfully.

Hermione barely remembered to lock the classroom door after that. She glowed with happiness for the rest of the day. Even Harry and Ron noticed, but when they asked her about it, she told them that she was just really enjoying one of her courses. They shrugged, not finding it unusual for Hermione to be so excited about schoolwork. They were too busy bickering with each other anyway.

The following Friday, Hermione went straight to the library at about 3:30 pm. She ended up waiting for four hours. Cho never showed up.

She felt really lonely and sad afterwards. Even though she'd _never_ tell anyone about what happened, it would've been nice to talk to either Ron or Harry, but they were way too busy pretending to hate each other. She didn't know where they were anyway.

It rained dramatically and she was alone in the girls' dorm room. Everyone else was out enjoying Friday night or hanging out in the common room. All of these factors added to her depression.

Still, Hermione was able to cope with it somewhat rationally. Cho had no idea how important it was to Hermione, and Cho hated arithmancy. She probably just didn't come because of that. Cho also hadn't been very specific on which Friday their "study date" was. For all Hermione knew, either one of them could have gotten the dates mixed up.

Hermione still felt like a fool. She hated to admit it, but Cho had hurt her _bad_. "She probably just doesn't want to be seen with me. I'm just nerdy, frumpy _Hermione_ ," she'd said to herself, wiping at her eyes. "They probably video taped me sitting there like a total idiot, just like they do in all of the stupid romantic comedies that she apparently likes so much. Thank God, most of us don't _have_ such muggle paraphernalia." Though she hadn't lost her composure until she'd left the library (she had spent the majority of her time there studying), Hermione still worried that something like that could have happened. She'd seen enough asinine films to know that it was a possibility.

Hermione toyed with the idea of changing up her image, trying to be "cool", giving herself a makeover. She quickly pushed the idea aside. _Screw that! I like being myself. I don't need some stupid makeover_ , she thought adamantly, surprised by her own confidence. _Cho and those other Ravenclaw girls are just stuck up. I'm damn glad I wasn't sorted into that house. Bunch of egomaniacs, the lot of them. They're worse than Slytherins! Okay, maybe not worse than Slytherins, but still! Besides, I'm not frumpy. Cho said it herself. I'm sort of pretty. I might not be a super model, but I like how I look. I'm still a geek, but I don't give a shit. I like being a geek._

Hermione smiled. She knew that she was right, and she was happy to realize that she possessed confidence that she didn't know she had. She thought about writing her thoughts down to reaffirm her words to herself, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She would be mortified if someone read it. _It would read like a self-help book_ , she thought, laughing.

Now, Hermione was officially over it. She felt incredibly happy to be a Gryffindor, where she had several friends and everyone accepted her for who she was. Cho had been a hopeless, impossible dream and she had awoken from it. She was just glad that she hadn't ended up totally embarrassing herself. This trip to the library hadn't been completely in vain either. Hermione ended up checking out several great books, including a gripping autobiography by Mirabella Plunkett.

She was also able to reason that even _if_ Cho and her friends somehow "video-taped" her, either magically or without, she hadn't spent her trip to the library crying into a romance novel. She'd sat there calmly, reading and doing homework. It had been a struggle at first. She'd been so excited to see Cho, she could barely think straight. When Cho didn't show up, Hermione felt deeply disappointed. _Stiff upper lip_ , she'd thought, though, and carried on studying, hoping that Cho would show up. She soon forgot about Cho and the four hours flew by. She hadn't allowed herself to become truly depressed until she was safely back in the Gryffindor girls' dorm room.

Today, she had still felt a little blue, though. She'd decided that she needed to talk to one of her friends alone, preferably Harry, since Ron was so unpredictable and hot-headed. Luckily, she had gotten a chance to speak to him an hour or so after breakfast. For the first time in what had felt like forever, Harry was alone and he wasn't busy. He was sitting by the shore of the Black Lake, gazing pensively out at the glistening body of water. If someone happened to see him, they'd probably think that he was simply admiring the beauty of the lake, or waiting for a friend. To the trained eye, though, he looked absolutely miserable. Hermione didn't care right then. She was in a bit of a sulking mood herself. Misery does love company.

"Hey, Harry. How you holding up?" Hermione had asked sympathetically, sitting beside him.

"Not bad. Ron still hates me, though. How are you doing?" Harry said casually, trying to appear apathetic. He was a great liar, unlike Ron, but it was always easy for Hermione to see the hurt in his eyes. It really wasn't an update that she required either. She was well aware that they were still fighting. It was like someone commenting on the weather, both casual _and_ obvious.

Hermione patted Harry on the back. "I'm sorry, Harry. He'll get over it. He's probably just a bit jealous."

"Yeah..." Harry sighed sadly. Hermione felt very bad for him. Though she knew that Ron loved Harry very much and that they would eventually reconcile, she understood how Harry felt. Thanks to her brief relationship with Cho, she now sort of knew what it was like to feel abandoned.

"Hey, Harry?" Hermione said. She was surprised by the vulnerability in her own voice.

"Yeah?" Harry looked at her, suddenly appearing concerned.

"Have you ever, I don't know, really liked someone and had them not like you back? You know, romantically?... I'm not talking about you or Ron either, trust me. It's no one you would even know. They're in another house," Hermione asserted, blushing hotly

Harry studied her. He seemed to think for a moment. "Well, hell yeah, Hermione. I've felt that way before. That's the way I feel about Ron. Not romantically, I mean!" Harry blushed. Hermione bit back a smile. They _totally_ fancied each other. He continued, "But, I mean, yeah. I... Ron's my best friend, and I can't understand at all why he hates me all of a sudden."

"Ron _loves_ you, Harry. He's just being a prat. I'm not sure exactly what his reasoning is, but he adores you. You know that."

Harry looked down, seeming sad again. "Yeah, well whatever." He looked back up at her. "Anyway, are _you_ okay, Hermione? Did something happen? You know, even if you do like either me or Ron, you know, that, like, we can still talk about it."

"Oh no. I'm being honest, Harry. The person that I like is in a completely different house from us."

Harry grinned. "Oh yeah? Which house?"

Hermione blushed. "Um, Ravenclaw."

Harry suddenly frowned. "Did one of them hurt you, Hermione? I'll kick his ass, or, well, I'll _try_ to anyway. Ron's probably a bit better at hand-to-hand combat than I am."

Hermione giggled, appreciating Harry's protectiveness. He probably wouldn't want to kick _Cho's_ ass. Oh, if only he knew. "They didn't do it on purpose. I'm over it anyway, honestly. You made me feel a lot better, Harry. Thanks so much for talking to me." Hermione hugged him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her in return. She figured that he probably needed that just as much as she did. They pulled away from each other. He smiled at her. "Glad I could be of service. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you _know_ I'm always here. I might be busy or something, but I can always make time for you."

"Thanks, Harry. Same here."

"Well, I'm gonna go try and catch up on some homework in the dorm. If you ever feel like you need to talk just come see me, okay?" They smiled at each other again, enjoying their friendship.

"Thanks, Harry. You too," Hermione said.

Now, sitting in the common room, Hermione thought about how fortunate she was to have such great friends, even if they _were_ acting like twats to each other at the moment.

She had no concept of what Ron's outburst had been about, but she shrugged it off as having something to do with his fight with Harry. He'd get over it eventually. He just needed some solitude. She knew that talking to him would do more harm than good. Hermione had noticed that she had a tendency to make Ron even angrier when he was upset. She was prone to playing the Devil's Advocate, which only seemed to further enrage him. She suspected that Neville had the same problem, since she'd heard Ron angrily ranting to him several times over the past weeks. Neville always timidly disagreed with him, causing Ron to shout even louder.

Hermione sometimes suspected that that was the reason why Ron came to her and Neville with his problems to begin with. If Ron tried to vent to Seamus, who he confided in considerably less than he did his other friends, Seamus would completely agree with everything Ron had to say, which would probably calm him down. If Ron vented to her or Neville, it would help him stay good and angry. Of course, Ron likely required much less venting before he'd begun his fight with Harry.

Hermione sighed. In spite of Ron's recent outburst, she still felt relatively content at the moment. At least now, thanks to Harry and her own self-confidence, she could focus on her future.

She still had other, more realistic romantic prospects, after all. Recently, she had noticed a Bulgarian boy from Durmstrang eying her. Though Hermione wasn't at all attracted to the boy, she _had_ felt flattered by his apparent interest. Still, his ogling had made her feel somewhat uncomfortable. She had found it hilariously pervy how he'd licked his lips slowly while checking her out, maintaining eye contact the entire time. At first, she'd thought he might be staring at someone else. She nervously motioned towards herself as if saying "Me?". He nodded slowly, his eyes half-lidded. She stood there for a full two minutes, mesmerized and slightly repulsed. Finally, she managed to give him a polite smile and she hurriedly fled the scene.

Still, she could take what she assumed was a compliment, even if it _was_ hilariously disgusting. Hermione knew that she could be easily swayed into dating him based on his flattery alone. Besides, he was probably used to that working with the ladies. Maybe it was a Bulgarian thing? Either way, at least he could unintentionally make her laugh. He was probably a nice guy, just a bit strange. If she ever dated him, she'd just need to bring her wand along in case he tried anything. And she would never let him handle any of her beverages. She knew that she'd never be able to overcome how much little attraction she felt for him, though.

Aside from him, she also felt quite intrigued by that Luna girl the Ravenclaws apparently loved to make fun of. Maybe she'd look her up some day.

 _Love is so complicated_ , Hermione thought, sighing to herself. She pulled her arithmancy textbook from her bookbag and lost herself the various facts and figures of her favorite school subject.


	5. Confrontation and Realization

A/N: Sorry about the detour in story. I go back to the main plotline in this chapter. Speaking of which, this is the last chapter for this story.

Thanks so much for reading this story and for the feedback and everything. I felt really grateful for that. I mean it.

* * *

Ron ended up in the library. He sat at a table, reading a book he wasn't paying any attention to. He wished he had remembered to bring his homework, but he doubted he would have been able to pay any attention to that either.

He knew he'd completely overreacted with Hermione, but pissing people off seemed to be all Ron was good for that day. He had savagely hurt his best friend, Neville thought he was a total wanker (and he was right), and now he'd snapped at Hermione. _Whatever_ , thought Ron, _who needs them anyway?_ He knew he was completely full of shit.

"Hey, boy!" the librarian shrieked from her desk. "Closing time's in an hour and a half!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron replied, waving her off. "Why warn me when I have so much time left? Warn me when closing time's in ten minutes," Ron muttered under his breath. "Someone's desperate to get off work."

"I heard that. Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Ron smirked. "Sorry, Madam Pince. I'm not having the best day."

Madam Pince smiled slightly, "That's all right, Mr. Weasley. Just don't take all night."

Ron returned to his book, pretending to look invested.

"Well if it isn't our little brother, Ronniekins!" Ron looked up. _Oh brilliant_ , he thought.

"What do _you_ guys want?" Ron asked.

"We just want to know one thing," Fred said. "What did you say to Harry?"

"What, did he run and tell you guys about it?" Ron asked, though not very angrily. Even _he_ was aware of how douchey that sounded.

The twins glared at him. "Don't you even dare, Ron," George huffed. "We just happened across him in the forest. We asked him if you said anything to him because he seemed upset and we know you're being a prick to him right now."

"He still wouldn't budge. Harry told us you didn't say anything to him," Fred continued. "But we knew better. That's why we want _you_ to tell us what you said."

Ron's eyes widened slightly. "You just let him stay in the forest? Don't you know how dangerous that place is?" Ron paused, remembering that he was supposed to hate Harry. "Not that I care."

"Come off it, Ron," George sighed. "Anyway, what did you say to him?"

"Keep it down over there!" Madam Pince shouted.

"Sorry!" the three boys replied in unison.

"Why does she care? We're the only ones in the library," Fred muttered.

"I think she just likes yelling at people," George whispered.

"I heard that. Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"Damn, she's got some ears on her," Ron observed.

"Look," George said. "Let's take this out into the corridor. There's no one there either." The twins guided their younger brother out of the library, flashing cheeky grins at Madam Pince.

Once they were in the hallway, and they had made sure it was empty, Fred readdressed his sibling. "So, what did you say to Harry?"

Ron sighed. He did want to relieve himself of some of his guilt. Since his pride prevented him from apologizing to Harry, this was the next best thing. "I didn't say anything _to_ him," Ron confessed. "I was just venting to Neville, because I was mad, and I guess Harry heard me. I know I shouldn't have said any of what I said, and I didn't mean any of it. I was just so mad and I had no idea Harry was listening." Ron looked down, examining the floor in self-deprecation.

"Oh boy," George sighed, sounding a bit more sympathetic. "So what'd you say?"

"Just a lot of really terrible stuff that I didn't mean," Ron croaked, the guilt and sadness that he was feeling completely revealed to him. "I said that I was happy we were fighting, that I never really wanted him as a friend. And then I said, I hoped he died in the tournament," Ron choked the last words out before beginning to cry.

Fred and George took him in their arms. "All right, then. Calm down, little brother. It's okay."

"No, it's fucking not!" Ron sobbed, pulling away. "Now Harry thinks I hate him. He should never even speak to _me_ again! I said such fucking terrible things. He'll never forgive me, and I don't deserve him to. I just felt so jealous because he always gets all of the attention and sometimes, I wonder if he really cares about me. I could never _hate_ him, though," Ron whimpered. "And what's worse is that I found a letter from his aunt and uncle telling him how much they hate him and how worthless he is. I can't fucking stand to think I somehow made him feel like they were right."

"Tak it easy, Ron. That letter sounds terrible, but _you_ didn't know about it. And anyway, you know Harry," George laughed lightly, patting Ron on the back. "You could probably light him on fire and he'd still forgive _you_ , Ron."

Ron wiped at his eyes. "Did he seem, you know, really depressed?"

"He seemed pretty heart-broken," Fred answered frankly. "He was okay when we were talking about other stuff with him, but when we mentioned you, well, he looked pretty depressed. That's what really gave it away that it was _your_ fault."

Ron grimaced. He felt terrible, but, again, he found it reassuring to know that Harry was sad too. "You gotta believe me, I didn't mean a single word of what I said."

"Then tell Harry that, Ron," George replied, softly.

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I- I dunno. I can't get that close to him. I... I like him _too_ much."

The twins exchanged smiles. "We always figured," they said in unison.

Ron blushed hotly. He'd just blurted it out. The idea of "being into" Harry really hadn't occurred to him, but it was true. He was suddenly aware of it. He _totally_ fancied Harry. Ron's face felt like it was on fire. He knew he that he should shut up, but he couldn't."It's so weird, right? Like, I feel jealous of him for getting all of the attention, but at the same time, I'm so... Harry- he's just so- well, whatever. Everyone always tells me I should be with Hermione anyway, so I shouldn't, you know, be into that."

"It's not weird at all, Ron," George replied comfortingly. "It's no big deal at all if you're into Harry like that. Nobody cares, and no one's saying 'you have to be with Hermione'. You're only obligated to be with who you want to be with."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Ron said glumly, studying the floor again. "Now I _really_ don't deserve Harry. And even if I did, he probably wouldn't be into me anyway."

"Aw, come on, Ron. It's not that you don't deserve Harry. Not at all," Fred reassured him, putting his arm around Ron. "You just can't treat him like that, is all. You're usually a great friend, though, and like we said, Harry would forgive you no matter what you do. He's not angry with you or anything. He just seems really hurt. And hell, we wouldn't doubt it if Harry fancies you too." The twins smiled.

Ron turned red again and perked up. "You really think so?"

"We think so," they responded in unison.

Ron frowned. "But how am I ever going to apologize to him?"

"Look, Ron, just tell him what you told us. You don't have to bring it up that you fancy him. Just tell him you didn't mean any of the stuff you said and that you miss him," George said.

Ron smiled slightly. "Well, I guess that doesn't sound _too_ hard."

"'Atta boy," Fred grinned, patting his brother on the back. "Now let's get back to the common room before the prefects come out. I hate running into those gits."

"By the way, that letter sounds horrible. I forget, why does Harry have to stay with those people?" George asked.

"It's complicated I guess, George," Fred replied, walking with his two brothers. "It's all some big conspiracy."

"Well, we can't let him go back there this summer. That's all I know," Ron insisted. He suddenly paused. Then he slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I'm such an idiot. I lit the letter on fire after I read it! We could've taken that to Dumbledore!"

"Shit you're right. That would've been good evidence. Oh well, we'll all go see him tomorrow, all right?"

"Sounds good," George replied.

When Ron returned to the dorm room, most of his roommates were putting on their pajamas, studying, or talking. The drapes were drawn around Harry's bed. When he felt no one was watching him, he pulled back one of the drapes a tiny bit and bravely peeked in. Ron sighed, relieved. Harry was in bed, asleep. He looked so... gorgeous. Ron wanted to run his fingers through Harry's hair. Sighing again, Ron let go of the cloth, and turned away. He blushed when he realized Neville was watching him, though neither boy said anything to each other. Finally, Ron got dressed in his own pajamas and climbed into his bed. _Maybe tomorrow, mate,_ Ron thought, closing his eyes.


End file.
